Breakdown
by Maryyy13
Summary: Set in Season 3, Bellamy Blake is returning to camp after destroying the grounder village. Will he be strong enough to deal with what he's done without the help of his friends, or will he break under the pressure?


**AN: So, this reads a little bit like a one-shot, but it's not. I'm planning on this continuing into a (hopefully) good story. It is set in Season 3 immediately after Bellamy and Pike kill everyone except Indra in the grounder village. The entire story will be about Bellamy dealing with everything from the grounders to Mount Weather to the people of the Ark, especially since this is the point in the story when he essentially has no one. I just want to explore his mind a little further than it was explored in the show. Right now, I'm thinking the entire story will be in Bellamy's POV, but I may switch it up depending on where my creativity takes me. Please review, and I hope you like it!**

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Bellamy couldn't believe what they had done.

All those people…

He didn't care that they weren't his people. He didn't care that they were grounders. They had killed everyone. Burned the entire village to the ground. And why? It wasn't like they had attacked them. But according to Pike, they would have. They were too close to Arkadia for comfort. It had to be done

It had to be done.

But then why did he feel this way? He still smelled the burned flesh of his victims as he walked into camp. He heard their cries and screams, felt their last breath on his skin. He saw their blood everywhere. They were all dead because of him.

He felt his chest tighten as he walked back to camp. He knew what they would all say. They'd all blame him. Even though this had been Pike's idea, he had sided with it. And Bellamy knew more of these people than Pike did. They trusted _him._ Not Pike. Pike could give one hell of a pep talk, he was a master of persuasion. And that was why all everyone needed to solidify their trust was Bellamy. He had thought it was a good idea. It _was_ a good idea. It was the _only_ idea.

It had to be done.

But now, Octavia was going to hate him. Lincoln was going to hate him. Kane was going to hate him. Abbey was going to hate him. And Clarke.

 _Oh God, Clarke_

She was going to hate him most of all. She was the one currently in Polaris with Lexa. She was the one who had vouched for the tribe to be sent down to Arkadia. She was the reason the were now the "thirteenth clan" as if that was going to last. Not only had his decisions probably prompted war between the grounders and sky people, but Clarke was now alone in their territory. His decision would probably have her killed.

He hoped maybe they'd just lock her up. He was sure Lexa wouldn't want Clarke dead, but how much power did Lexa have over the other twelve tribes? Not to mention that the Ice Nation was on their tail. He imagined all the grounder mutinying, killing Lexa, Clarke, and all of them. Because blood must have blood.

And if she lived? She would never forgive him. Not when this was what she had wanted. And she wouldn't understand. She still had faith in the grounders.

But Bellamy knew what they were like. He had been the one in Mount Weather, trying to save them all only to be abandoned. He had been through more than anyone else. He had been hung upside down, tortured, beaten, and blown up. It was because of the grounders that he and Clarke had to make the decision that killed all the innocent lives that lived in the mountain. And for a time, he had forgiven them. He had moved on. Accepted the fact that he would have to live with everything. Accepted that Clarke was gone. Finally found happiness again in Gina. Only to have her killed as well.

He couldn't win.

On the inside, he knew it was the Ice Nation, which was separate from the grounders. But grounders were grounders. And Bellamy knew that Pike was right. If push came to shove, the grounders would turn on them and kill them. The village was too close for comfort. It had to go.

It had to be done.

So when they all walked into camp, he didn't want to talk about it. He ignored Octavia's questions about what they had done. Ignored Kane's of what had happened. It should've been fairly obvious by the fact they were covered in blood. They should've known by the look on his face.

Because even though it had to be done, he couldn't believe he had actually done it.

And he couldn't get over the fact that deep down, he knew he'd do it again.

He walked with the others toward the Med Bay, trying to ignore the scratchiness of his throat and the tightness of his chest. He tried to ignore the shakiness of his legs and the way his stomach rolled.

He didn't quite make before he threw up. He had been able to sneak away and duck behind one of the buildings, away from anyone's gaze. He just barely made it into the shadows before the entire contents of his stomach ended up on the ground.

He suddenly felt the world around him beginning to buzz. He knew where this was going. He had seen so many of the 100 have panic attacks or nightmares. And honestly, who wasn't having nightmares? But he wouldn't allow himself to succumb to this right now. He couldn't. He had to be stronger than that. He had to be the strongest person here, because no one else could handle doing what he did. Not everything he's done.

So, Bellamy pushed his thoughts down, locked them away in a box and stuffed it in the farthest corner of his mind. The buzzing stopped. He braced himself for what he would face when he returned to the rest of the group. All he had now was Pike, everyone else would surely hate him. And he had to live with that. He heard Clarke's words in his head.

 _I bear it so they don't have to._

Well if she had to bear it, then so did he. This had been the right decision, he was sure of it. He had done what it had taken in Mount Weather, and he did whatever it took now.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and walked on shaky legs to the campfire where everyone seemed to be communing. They were passing around food, animal meat someone had hunted. Bellamy took his share, but didn't eat it. It looked too much like that burnt flesh of his victims. He shook his head and looked around, longing to see a friendly face. But all he saw were faces of disgust or horror. Even his own sister only sent daggers his direction. He gave his food to a boy nearby and trudged back to his tent.

 _You're okay_ , he thought to himself

 _It had to be done._


End file.
